


Dylan's Story

by pallasite



Series: Behind the Gloves (condensed) [9]
Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: Backstory, Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Gen, Mind Wipe Machines, Politics, Psi Corps, Worldbuilding, telepaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallasite/pseuds/pallasite
Summary: This is the story of a young, idealistic, even naive telepath who witnesses first-hand the corruption in EarthGov. (And EarthGov isverycorrupt.)This work is a selection from theBehind the Glovesproject, with all the chapters of this work together in one place.
Series: Behind the Gloves (condensed) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687384
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

2229\. New York City.

In high school, Dylan Valle had been the star of the debate team, and had always dreamt of a life in politics, working to change policy to make the Earth Alliance a better place. He had dreamed of becoming an EA Senator himself someday, of making speeches and waving to the cheering crowds – maybe even running for Earth president. He would end poverty, he would create jobs, he would change the world.

But then at seventeen, in the beginning of his senior year, he developed telepathy and within a week, was expelled. He was suddenly transplanted from his cozy hometown outside Buffalo to the campus of a Corps’ school in the heart of bustling New York City, where he would spend the next year as an Academy student.

He was told he would be tracked for the Business Division. Dylan didn’t know exactly what telepaths did in this Business Division, other than work for companies and help keep negotiations honest.

“But I don’t want to go into business, I want to go into politics,” he told the staff member at the Psi Corps office.

“Sorry kid, telepaths can’t run for office. Laws forbid it.”

“Then I want to work for the government. I want to do public policy in EarthDome, in Geneva.”

“Sorry, kid. That’s just not possible.”

Dreams crushed, he arrived at school. The campus felt foreign. Everyone at school spoke English, but he felt as if he’d been dropped into a faraway country. Students all wore identical gold and umber school uniforms, and black leather gloves. They never engaged in casual physical contact with one another when conversing – no hugs, no friendly punches on the arm. They always maintained a certain distance while talking. There was certainly no kissing.

Everyone treated the teachers with the utmost respect at all times, and the teachers never called him Dylan – he was always “Mr. Valle.”[[1]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681899/chapters/56853886#_ftn1)

In the dining halls, posters adorned the walls, showing smiling telepath teenagers of all ethnicities, modestly dressed, holding trays of food. “Healthy bodies, healthy minds” read one sign. “Ask your friends today: have you had three servings of vegetables?” read another.

On his first visit to the dining hall, he took several slices of cake for dessert, putting it with the rest of his food onto the plastic tray.

“You really shouldn’t take so much cake,” the student behind him in line said. She was a pretty girl with brown skin and almond eyes.

“What?” he said, shocked, looking up. “There’s plenty more for everyone else-”

“No no, I mean, it’s not healthy to eat so many sweets.”

He looked at her with horror and a flash of anger. “Who the hell do you think you are, my mom?”

She blinked in surprise. “The Corps is Mother and Father,” she said. “We’re all brothers and sisters to each other. I’m just looking out for you. You should have another helping of broccoli instead.”

“Bug off!” he shouted. “What I eat isn’t any of your business!”

Then he realized everyone was staring at him. Students at tables near the cafeteria line had even stopped eating. He could hear a proverbial pin drop.

 _Later,_ they were saying, without saying anything at all.

_That must be him, the kid who just arrived today._

_Yeah, that’s him._

He stomped off to the far side of the cafeteria to eat his meal alone, and enjoy his cake in peace.

*****

With graduation came freedom – of a sort. The Corps leased him a modest but adequate apartment in the city for his use while in commercial training, and paid him a stipend for living expenses. Gone for good were the days of school uniforms, cafeterias and pledges.

But even with his rent and utilities covered, Dylan still found city life hard to adjust to, especially as a telepath. People on the street sometimes crossed over, so as not to walk near him. Passengers on the train sneered and kept their distance. He was watched and followed in shops, stared at with suspicion and distrust. Restaurant staff seated him at the back, far away from other customers and from windows overlooking the street. One time in the restroom, someone started a row and would have assaulted him if Dylan hadn’t managed to escape in time.

He heard rumors about telepaths being assaulted anywhere normals could get them alone and without means of escape[2] – and tried to avoid such situations. Slowly, any remaining hopes that graduation would bring a normal life faded in the city haze. His old friends no longer wanted anything to do with him, and he’d never made any real friends in his one year in the Psi Corps school.

Every morning, he rode the bus to the Psi Corps training center for his commercial training. So far they’d taught him very little about business and a lot of about keeping his mouth shut. One day at the bus stop, a small crowd stood, waving signs, cheering.

MAYOR CROW HAS GOT TO GO!

Two protesters wove between the waiting passengers, chanting, handing out sheets of bright green paper.

STAND UP NEW YORK! FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHTS!

A man approached the commuter standing next to Dylan.

“Here ma’am, would you like a flyer?” He was a bright-eyed white man in his fifties, wearing a knit hat, and a thick winter coat covered in political buttons. “There’s a rally next Saturday! Stand up to corruption, greed and corporate elitism!”

“I’m busy,” she said, “I’m sorry.”

He turned to Dylan. “Would you like a flyer, sir?”

Dylan recalled the rallies he’d attended in high school, moments that felt a lifetime away. For an instant in his grey, dull morning, there was a flash of hope – someone was inviting him to a political rally to stand up to corruption in city government! Someone had seen past the gloves and invited him back into the world of civic participation! Someone still recognized him as a citizen, psi insignia badge and all!

“Yes, thank you,” Dylan said brightly, and reached out for the flyer.

The man seemed to see him for the first time. “Oh! You’re a telepath!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, didn’t see the badge. My apologies.”

“Wait, what?”

“The Psi Corps Charter,” the man replied smoothly. “I always tell the new volunteers not to approach telepaths, and I do my best to explain political neutrality to them, but we all make mistakes. My apologies, sir, I hope you forgive me.”

He turned to move on, but Dylan reached out to halt him. “Wait,” he said. “I’m new to the Corps. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want to go to the rally.”

“You’ll have to take that up with the Corps,” the man said, and moved off through the crowd, giving other people flyers instead.

Angry, Dylan fished one of the bright green flyers out of a nearby trash can. Corps be damned, he was going.

*****

Several thousand people gathered that Saturday in Central Park. Dylan took a free “Stop the Crow-nies!” poster from a rack, stuffed it under his arm, and wandered over the hear the speeches. News cameras hovered through the crowd, and mounted police stood in strategic locations, looking imposing and keeping the rally peaceful.

_Finally_ , Dylan thought, _I’m back in my element at last._

He ignored the uncomfortable glances from the normals around him, not caring what they thought, lost in the pulsing energy of the crowd. The speakers denounced the corruption in city government, and Dylan cheered right along with the rest of them. This was his city too, he thought. No one would stop him from joining the fight for fair governance.

When he got home, he hung the poster up on the outside of his apartment door. Satisfied, he made himself dinner, watched television, and went to bed. The next morning he was awoken by a knock. Loud. Serious.

Through his peephole, he saw a Psi Cop standing there, black uniform and all. He’d never seen one in person before, only pictures in vids and broadcasts.

_That’s odd_ , he thought, and opened the door.

“Dylan Valle?” she asked.

He nodded. “Can I help you, officer?”

She thumbed at the poster on his door. “What’s this?”

“A poster from yesterday’s rally,” Dylan answered innocently. “The one against city corruption. It was on the news.”

She looked him searchingly, sizing him up, then glanced left and right down the corridors before letting herself into his apartment and shutting the door behind her. “I realize you’re new to the Corps,” she said, “and sometimes laters do foolish things, but are you a complete idiot?”

“Ma’am? I don’t follow. It’s just a poster.”

“Article II of the Charter,” she replied, exasperated. “The Corps cannot involve itself in normal politics or endorse candidates for office.[3] You’ve read the Charter, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with me? That refers to the Corps itself-”

“-And you’re a representative of the Corps. We all are, in each and every thing we say and do. You wear that badge every day. What do you think it means?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “No. I’ll explain it to you. Normals wrote that Charter provision because they don’t want us in their politics. It scares the hell out of them – telepaths influencing votes, telepaths blackmailing political opponents, telepaths passing as normals and taking office, and on and on. So the rules are clear – we’re to stay out, all of us, and we stay completely out. Article II would be meaningless if the Corps as an institution couldn’t endorse a candidate, but individual telepaths were out campaigning anyway, formally or invisibly. You’re worried about corruption in government? You think that crowd was angry?” She laughed. “Well son, you’ve seen nothing at all until you’ve seen how scared they are of us in their government. Do you remember the riots in 2115? Did they teach you about that in school? You know how that happened, don’t you? Over in Chicago they blamed the corruption in city government on us, on telepaths. Hundreds died. They tracked us down, rounded us up and shot us.”

A chill went through Dylan, as it suddenly occurred to him that the Psi Cop might have come to his home to arrest him. He stood speechless, terrified that anything he said would get him in more trouble.

“That poster comes down right now,” she said. “And you stay away from rallies. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I know all about you. I know you used to be an activist of sorts, or at least you wanted to be one. And so I’m here to tell you once and for all that your activist days are over. You are a representative of the Corps now, and with that comes sacrifices. You are no exception.”

Dylan nodded, terrified, not wanting to anger the Psi Cop by talking back, but inwardly fumed at the injustice.

“Yeah yeah, ‘it’s not fair,’ I’ve heard that all before, too. Fine, you can take it up with EarthGov. Call Geneva and whine away to them - they make the laws, not us. In the meantime, you will follow those laws. Don’t make me come back here. This is your one warning.”

When she left, Dylan stood in the foyer of his apartment, shaking. Moments later he tore the poster off his door and ripped it to shreds.

What had happened to him? To free speech? To his rights as a citizen of the EA?

_You can take it up with EarthGov._

_I’ll do just that_ , he swore to himself. _However long it takes, that’s exactly what I’ll do_.

[1] Gregory Keyes, Deadly Relations, p. 40 onward. Once students enter the Minor Academy, teachers no longer refer to them by given names, but by Mr./Ms. [surname].

[2] _The Corps is Mother the Corps is Father_

[3] _Revelations_


	2. Chapter 2

2237

After almost eight long, miserable years in the Business Division, Dylan Valle finally got the call.

“It’s a long shot,” the Psi Corps representative said, “but a position has just opened up in EarthDome.”

Dylan’s eyes lit up.

“Despite clear language in the Psi Corps charter that the Corps must always remain politically neutral,[1] there are occasional exceptions.”

Dylan only wanted to know how to apply.

“And the Corps can’t help you,” the woman added. “Who the senator decides to hire is her choice alone.”

“Of course!”

 _At last_ , Dylan told himself. _I’m really going to do it._ He thought back to his brief run-in with the law eight years earlier, when he’d foolishly hung a political poster on his door, and got read the riot act by a Psi Cop. _I’ll show her who’s boss!_

By the end of the week, Dylan sat at the desk of Senator Marianna Rosaki, Senator from the United States, a woman in her early to mid fifties with red-brown hair and dark eyes. Her office, the “inner sanctum” of Earth Alliance telepath policy, was spacious and lavishly decorated with dark woods and antique furniture, including several vases in the now-popular style of neo-Grecian revival.[2]

Dylan could hardly believe his good fortune. Had his passion for politics shone through above that of all the other applicants? His hard work? His skills? Or had his name simply been pulled from a hat?

Above the senator’s desk hung a portrait of Senator Lee Crawford, one of the key architects of Psi Corps and its first director. Dylan hated the portrait: its seamed, angular face[3] seemed to be looking down on him and smirking through time, gloating about the “successes” of his 22nd century social experiment. Few telepaths actually believed the normals had had “benevolent intentions” when they’d created the Corps and its predecessor, even though that had always been the mandatory story taught in Psi Corps schools, thanks to Crawford and his ilk.[4] Dylan's teachers had bent the rules and taught him the truth - it was a lesson, Dylan had quickly learned, in how it was possible to say one thing with one’s lips, but yet, in juxtaposition with one’s thoughts, tell an entirely different story altogether.[5]

“Mr. Valle, you are the committee’s first choice for the aide position,” the senator said, “subject to certain conditions.”

There were always conditions.

“As you know,” she continued, “I am the Chair of the Committee on Metasensory Abilities,[6] the committee that oversees and funds the Psi Corps. My committee has a long and distinguished history, going back to our origins as the Committee on Metasensory Regulation.”[7] She gestured to the portrait above her desk.

Dylan nodded. He knew the history.

“Of course, we no longer directly regulate the lives of telepaths; that’s Psi Corps’ jurisdiction. We still play a vital role in oversight, however.[8] Director Johnston was appointed by the Senate, and he reports to this committee, and to me, personally. We appropriate the budget.[9] There is no Psi Corps without us.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“This is a very important position, Mr. Valle. We need to know we can depend on you completely.”

His initial elation at having been offered the job quickly shifted into concern as he sensed that not only did she not trust him - she despised him. She had picked him as a finalist out of hundreds of applicants, and yet she still despised him.

He’d done nothing to get on her bad side. They’d never before met.

Maybe this was her good side.

“Rule number one,” she said, “is that you are never to pay attention to the thoughts of others unless you are explicitly asked to do so, by myself or someone working under my direction. You’ll be working with some very high level people, Mr. Valle, who know some very sensitive information. You are not to go ‘snooping around.’”

“I would never-”

“Of course you would never scan anyone,” she said, cutting him off, “we know that. We mean you must take the utmost care not to listen in on anyone’s thoughts unless explicitly asked to do so.”

Dylan was taken aback. In the business world, paying attention had been a critical part of his job. “That might be a bit of a challenge,” he said, cautiously. “I mean, telepathy doesn’t have an on/off button. Even if I’m not trying to, I might accidentally-”

“Dylan,” she said, talking down to him, her steady voice a thin veil for her hatred, “there are hundreds of other telepaths who would take this job in a heartbeat if you can’t – or won’t – comply with the basic expectations of the position. This is a plum job, you know. You’re very lucky even to be considered.”

It was almost a threat. Dylan suddenly realized, from the senator’s surface thoughts, that the last telepath on her staff had been dismissed for knowing things he should not. Dylan buried his curiosity to ask more about the circumstances of his predecessor’s dismissal.

“…I’ll try my best, ma’am,” he said.

“Your best is not good enough, we need you to promise us, and we need that promise in writing.”

She produced a piece of paper, asking him to promise not only to take extra precautions not to pick up on surface thoughts, but also to swear he would never reveal confidential information to the media, the public, friends, family, or to the Corps.

“Do you suspect me of being a spy?” He shouldn’t have said it, but it was already out of his mouth.

“Spy for whom?”

“…For the Corps.”

“Psi Corps is an agency of EarthGov, Dylan,”[10] the senator replied, coolly. “The Corps is not a sovereign government. Or do you believe it should be?”

“Of course not, ma’am. That’s absurd.”

Nonetheless, he pondered the loyalty oath lying on the Senator’s desk, awaiting his signature. He doubted any of the senator’s normal aides had been asked to sign such a document.

“Senator, as you know, I wasn’t raised in the Corps. My parents are normals. I didn’t develop telepathy until I was seventeen-”

“Mr. Valle, I don’t trust any telepath, it’s nothing personal against you. As much as I believe you are sincere – you would not be sitting here if I did not – I simply cannot ever trust you completely. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“It’s the job of this office to oversee telepath policy, not to get cozy with telepaths. So if, as you say, your telepathy does not have an ‘on/off button,’ it’s your responsibility to make sure that it does, or move aside and let someone more qualified take this job.”

She was asking him to do the impossible. No telepaths had that kind of “control” – telepathy simply didn’t work like that. Even without intentionally scanning anyone, surface thoughts always came through from time to time, especially when accompanied by strong emotion.[11] He wondered how the senator could have so much power over telepaths, and yet know – or care – so little about them.

He looked down at the loyalty oath, and for a moment he considered ripping it up and walking out the door. He wondered how many other applicants had done just that, before the senator had finally gotten down the list to him.

But then he remembered why he had applied – he had always wanted a life in politics. The Corps had told him he’d never be able to reach his dream – the Psi Corps charter, and subsequent regulation, categorically banned it[12] – and yet here he was, an inch away, despite what his teachers had told him.

Only the loyalty oath, ridiculous and insulting as it was, stood in his way. Maybe, he hoped, he could build the senator’s trust, over time. Maybe he could do some good for telepaths. This was his one chance to make a difference.

He had a chance to be the exception. He picked up his pen.

“Yes ma’am,” he said. “You can count on me.”

The portrait high on the wall continued to smirk.

[1] The Psi Corps charter mandates political neutrality. See _Revelations_ (“Remember the big scandal about the Corps endorsing Vice President Clark?” “Sure, it was big news. Made all the nets. Their charter prohibits recommending candidates to their members.”)

[2] Deadly Relations, p. 212-213

[3] Dark Genesis, p. 78

[4] Deadly Relations, p. 10-11, Gregory Keyes, Final Reckoning, p. 246-247. It’s never specified why the Corps has this as the story taught to kids, but since it’s not a pro-telepath story, it’s not hard to infer that normals were behind it somehow.

[5] See Deadly Relations, p. 11 for an example of someone saying one thing aloud, while mentally saying something very different or even the opposite.

[6] This is the name of the Senate oversight committee as given in _The Well of Forever_ (Crusade). I am assuming that though the committee changed names after Psi Corps was established, it didn’t change names again after the Telepath War.

[7] Inference. I assume that the committee changed names with the establishment of the Corps in 2156, but didn’t change names again between then and the time of Crusade (even when the Corps was disbanded and replaced with other entities).

[8] Dark Genesis, p. 50, Final Reckoning, p. 240, 244 (Psi Corps “created and overseen by the EA Senate”)

[9] Inference, because the explanation given in Dark Genesis of how the MRA is funded (from business fees alone, with no tax revenue) makes no sense.

[10] Gregory Keyes, Psi Corps Trilogy (all three books), especially Dark Genesis, p. 119 (e.g. “independently chartered MRA”). The word “agency” doesn’t appear in the text, but the description is of one. See also [JMSNews, 1/25/94](http://www.jmsnews.com/msg.aspx?id=1-19335). (The Corps is an agency of EarthGov)

[11] _Midnight on the Firing Line_ (even when blocking out casual thoughts, strong emotion can come through), _Mind War_ (strong emotion is hard to block), _Dust to Dust_ (strong emotion is hard to block, which can make it easier to scan someone), _Objects in Motion_

[12] Deadly Relations, p. 135 (ban on being politicians, specifically). Canon doesn’t explicitly list the legal basis for this prohibition (e.g. charter, statute, regulation, all of the above). _Revelations_ mentions the political neutrality clause in the Psi Corps charter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Senator Rosaki is never named or described in canon, but since the Senate oversees the Corps, there is some unnamed senator who holds her position. I am merely filling in the canon gap here.


	3. Chapter 3

2237

Senator Rosaki, as Chair of the Committee on Metasensory Abilities, met weekly with Psi Corps Director Johnston. She never invited Dylan to those meetings, however – he only glimpsed the aging Psi Corps director from afar. Dylan wondered what the two of them discussed – surely a closed door meeting between Senator Rosaki and Director Johnston had to be important – but he never tried to find out. He recalled that the senator’s last aide had been fired for snooping; whatever business the senator and the director discussed, it wasn’t his to know. So instead, he set his mind on his work, confident that if she wanted him to know something, she would tell him.

Johnston had been director for thirty-four years.[1] He had been appointed by the EA Senate in 2203, to replace Director Vacit, back when Rosaki had been in high school, and before Dylan had been born. Under the Psi Corps charter, the director served for life.

When Dylan finally met Director Johnston, it was entirely by accident. Dylan had gone to deliver some reports to the senator and found Johnston standing in her office. Dylan stopped in his tracks, and his heart skipped.

He wasn't supposed to be there.

Suddenly worried he might notice something he should not – the director was a normal, after all – he began his mental self-distraction routines.

_Bah bah black sheep, have you any wool…_

“And you must be Dylan!” said the director, standing to greet him, his pencil-gray eyes[2] reflecting his a falsely gracious smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Up close, Dylan felt a sudden chill. He didn’t like what lurked behind those eyes – Johnston reminded him of a horror vid he’d seen as a small child, with a creepy old man who abducted neighborhood children and kept them in cages in his basement. His skin was too pale[3], and he looked like he’d had several facelifts too many. Perhaps he'd been trying to appear more youthful, but instead, he just looked creepy.

“A pleasure, sir,” Dylan lied.

“Marianna has spoken very highly of you, Dylan," the director said. "You know, after you leave the Senate, there a good job waiting for you in the Corps, with her recommendation. A smart young man like you will go far.”

“Thank you, sir.” Dylan nodded, eager to get out of the man's presence as quickly as possible. There was something _wrong_ , even though he didn't know what.

“Things aren’t the same as they used to be,” Johnston added. “In the old days... in the old Corps, top jobs all went only certain people - those who grew up in the Corps, and especially those from Cadre Prime. But that's not fair, is it?”

"...No sir," Dylan said.

"See Marianna? He'll go far."

The senator grinned thinly.

Dylan looked for a place to leave the reports. Awkwardly mumbling some excuse - "I really need to be going, I have so much work to do" - he left the reports on the nearest flat surface and took off.

Safely out in the hall, he replayed the scene in his mind. It _wasn't_ fair that all the top jobs used to go to certain elite telepaths, right? So why did he feel something was still wrong?

Dylan didn't know what the director had been getting at, and he didn't think he wanted to know.

[1] Deadly Relations, p. 37 implies that Vacit is still the director, the year is approximately 2202 since the cadre is twelve/thirteen. At Bester's hearing, on p. 76, when he meets the new director (Johnston), he's fifteen. It seems to be late spring, meaning Bester is still fourteen by normal age-reckoning, so the year is 2204. Thus Johnston becomes director somewhere between 2202 and 2204.

[2] Deadly Relations, p. 10

[3] _Id._


	4. Chapter 4

2237\. EarthDome, Geneva.

From time to time, Senator Rosaki’s committee recognized and awarded Psi Cops for exceptional bravery in service to the Earth Alliance.[1] Only a few months after his arrival in Geneva, Dylan was invited to a commendation ceremony. Dylan had glanced over the list of Psi Cops to be honored, and one name jumped out – Alfred Bester.

There wasn’t a telepath alive who hadn’t heard of him: the Psi Cop who had led the raid in 2222 that had taken out notorious rogue terrorist Stephen Walters – the Black Fox. Bester was a legend and a mystery. All anyone knew for sure was that he had been telepathic from infancy, that he had been raised in Cadre Prime in Geneva – the elite cadre that for generations had raised Psi Cops and top administrators – and that he was the best Psi Cop who had ever lived.

Bester lived on Mars, but there were rumors he had an estranged wife on Earth.[2] Some rumors said he had a son,[3] others that he had a daughter[4] – others said the child wasn’t really his at all.[5]

Some folks claimed to know Bester's wife and son, and swore the child was an adolescent boy. Others insisted that Bester himself had told them he had a little girl.

In none of the stories did Bester have more than one child, so which was the truth? No one could figure out why Bester would lie about such things. Why would he change the child's age or gender? Did he have a happy marriage, [as he often told people](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10910400),[6] or was he estranged from his wife, as others claimed? When he spoke of his personal life (which wasn't often), it wasn't always clear which parts were true, and which parts weren't.

Did he just like to be mysterious, for its own sake - or was there more to the story?

His origins were also a mystery. Bester steadfastly maintained that he had been orphaned as an infant in a rogue attack in Geneva that killed his (Corps) parents,[7] but rumors in the Corps said his genealogical records were empty, listing him as related to no one at all.[8]

Genealogical record keeping was paramount in the Corps, so proper genetic matches could be made for marriage.[9] It was absolutely unheard of for anyone in the Corps to be listed as related to no one at all - if the rumors were true (and few other than Bester himself had access to the records in question), then his origins were even more mysterious than ever. Many in the Corps dismissed the rumors - there were so many rumors in the Corps, after all, and no doubt many were false. (Bester's child, for instance, couldn't simultaneously be both a toddler and an adolescent!) The Corps was filled with rumors - personal, political, and strange. A rumor and two bits, as the saying went, couldn't buy a cup of coffee.

Other telepaths, however, concluded that Bester must have secretly been related to someone powerful enough to have the records of his parentage destroyed. Extramarital affairs in the Corps were very common, but few had the power to hide the truth from the Corps when children resulted. Bester, the theory went, had to be the secret love-child of someone with considerable authority or access. He or she had destroyed the records so as to hide the affair.[10]

Such a story, at least, was the logical conclusion. Many among the younger generation of telepaths, however, preferred a more fantastical explanation for the rumors of Bester’s origins – perhaps he had simply materialized out of thin air, literally born from the spirit of the Corps, his physical mother and father.[11] Records could be altered, sure, but why would they be erased _entirely?_ Maybe he had never been orphaned at all – maybe he had materialized as a baby and been _discovered_ by the Corps. Maybe records listed no earthly parents because he had never had any.

Among the younger generation, there was considerable romantic appeal in the notion of child springing forth from the Corps itself and growing up to become its most famous and decorated hero. Bester scoffed at such foolishness, but to the younger generation, the now-grown children who’d pinned posters of him to their wall and dreamed of becoming Psi Cops, he was a legend – and so it felt right that his origins should also be the stuff of legend.

Cameras hovered[12] around the Senate function hall, recording the commendation ceremony for ISN and for posterity. Dylan was sure he would later see some of this footage in Psi Corps news vids. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d even get into the background of a shot.

Rosaki, standing at the Senate podium with Director Johnston by her side, pinned each Psi Cop with his or her commendation, smiling warmly. Johnston scowled. Rosaki gave a short speech lauding their achievements and exceptional service, bravery and dedication. Most were young, in their twenties and thirties. For some, it was their first commendation, and they glowed with pride. Bester, one of the few Psi Cops present over the age of forty - indeed, he was nearing fifty - took his (twelfth) Senate commendation as if it were merely routine. Of course he was the best – he’d been born and raised to be nothing less.

Rosaki heaped on the praises for him. There was nothing Bester wouldn’t do to serve the Earth Alliance: he regularly volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, risking life and limb daily to protect society from dangerous rogue telepaths. Rosaki declared him the model Psi Cop, continuously raising the bar in service, dedication and sacrifice. Dylan thought she sounded a bit like a Corps motivational poster, the kind that adorned the walls of schools. _Sacrifice brings honor… We are selflessly loyal to the Earth Alliance and her Constitution…_

This time he and his team had located and neutralized a dangerous cell of rogue telepaths on Mars, a cell that had been planning to bomb the offices of the EA Provisional Government in Syria Planum. They'd located and killed the dangerous terrorists, she told the crowd, and saved countless lives. The room erupted in applause.

Johnston scowled even more deeply than before, unable to hide a deep personal hatred for Bester.[13]

 _I keep my telepaths close_ , Rosaki had once said. Dylan had never forgotten those words. He looked around the hall and wondered who exactly was keeping whom close. The Corps needed the Senate, too – the Senate controlled the Corps’ purse strings.

A reception followed the ceremony, with drinks, hors d’oeuvres and shooter desserts. On the surface, the reception seemed friendly, joyous even, but the jovial calm belied the layers of distrust that Dylan could feel lurking under the surface on both sides of the gloves. It was, Dylan mused, a little like some arranged marriages - both sides needed each other, both sides had to keep up appearances, but neither trusted the other, and some folks at the reception harbored deeper, darker sentiments toward the other party, feelings they would never express in polite company.

The normals hovered around the function room, eating with their fingers off of small plates, chatting, drinks in hand. The display included a variety of foods Dylan couldn’t eat without cutlery: mozzarella balls, meat balls, fresh fruit. He sighed – he had learned shortly after graduation how challenging gloves made even the simplest things. Dylan didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere, with the normals or with the telepaths – he was the only telepath under P12 in the room – but like everyone in gloves, he needed silverware to eat. He didn't fit in anywhere, but the gloves (as always) decided which "side" he was on, and he reluctantly sat down with several Psi Cops around his own age, and introduced himself.

“Were you raised in the Corps?” was the first question. It was usually the first question in any conversation with Corps-raised telepaths.

“No, my parents are normals.” _And I’m a later_ , he didn’t have to say, feeling [terribly inferior](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10960335).

“Don’t feel bad about it,” one of the men said, “even some of us Psi Cops were born to normal parents.”[14]

“I went to school with several,” said a woman. “There’s no need to feel ashamed.”

They meant it, but Dylan felt inferior anyway.

The others exchanged stories. Dylan felt left out – he had little common ground, no stories to share. He ate quietly. He didn’t think they’d want to hear about his unglamorous upbringing outside Buffalo. He sat quietly as they chatted about their respective parents and grandparents in the Corps. He had no such stories to share – he couldn’t even make them up, because everyone would know he was lying.

So he ate, and listened to typical Corps gossip about people he didn’t know - mostly rumors about who was cheating on whom, with whom - and thought about Rosaki. He worked so hard for her, he had no friends in Geneva. He hadn’t had time to meet any.

But he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to meet one of the Corps’ biggest celebrities. He found Mr. Bester seated at a table in front of an untouched plate of hors d’oeuvres and a glass of red wine.

“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” Dylan said.

“And you are?”

“Dylan Valle, aide to Senator Rosaki.” Dylan moved to shake hands, but the Psi Cop just nodded. Dylan dropped his hand. “Congratulations on your commendation.”

“Thank you.”

“I wanted to let you know I have a lot of respect for the work that you and other Psi Cops do to keep us all safe,” Dylan said, nervously.

Bester nodded.

“Of course I’ve seen the documentary vids about the Black Fox Raid,” Dylan continued. “Everyone’s seen the vids. I was wondering… is it true that you were injured?”

The Psi Cop raised his left hand a bit, nonchalantly. Dylan saw he had it in a fist. “Useless,” he replied.

Dylan considered the legendary Psi Cop’s sacrifice. “How were you able to return to work, with use of only one hand?”

“Because,” he said, tapping his head with his right forefinger, “the real work of a Psi Cop takes place up here. It’s about knowing your target, understanding them, predicting them – where they’ll go, what they’ll do, how they’ll do it. The rest is firepower, and bloodhounds provide us with that. The real battle takes place in the mind, and it’s already over before the first shot is fired. Both sides already know who will win,[15] and of course that’s us.”

Dylan nodded.

“I was once quite skilled in martial arts, in my youth,”[16] Bester continued. “All future Psi Cops should study martial arts in school. It builds skills, character, the right frame of mind.”

“That makes sense, sir,” Dylan said.

_What do you really think of Rosaki?_

Just like that, the question was in Dylan’s mind. He wondered if the other telepaths at the table had even heard. They didn’t look up from their conversations.

The bluntness and suddenness of the question sent Dylan into a spin – how honest should he be? If he wasn’t honest, the Psi Cop would know. He didn’t have time to gather his thoughts, or to be evasive.

Seconds passed, like minutes. The legendary Psi Cop was watching.

 _Loyal. Dedicated. Hard-working,_ he ‘cast.

He felt the feather-light touch of a scan.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Dylan,” the Psi Cop said with a false smile, hardly three seconds after Dylan’s last spoken words. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to. I’m a very popular man tonight. It’s been a good day.” He gestured. “Be seeing you.”

Bester turned to talk to someone else, and Dylan walked away, feeling like he’d just failed a big, important test – one it had been impossible to prepare for. He regretted his decision to introduce himself, and sheepishly sat back down at his table.

“So,” asked the woman seated to Dylan’s left, “what do you think?”

“Excuse me?”

The young Psi Cop gestured. “You introduced yourself to Mr. Bester.”

“Yes. He’s… quite famous, and I wanted to meet him.”

“Well? What do you think?”

For a moment, he debated telling her about the scan, but decided not to. “I’m not sure what to think,” he said, diplomatically.

She gestured at Dylan as she looked at her friends. “Politician,” she joked.

Everyone laughed, even Dylan. He didn’t know whether he’d just been insulted.

“Well, what do you think?” Dylan asked.

“He gives me the creeps,” she replied.[17] “Oh, he’s the best Psi Cop who’s ever lived, there’s no debate there. He’s saved more telepath and normal lives than anyone can count.[18] He’s a real hero,[19] unlike us kids who got lucky and ended up in the right place at the right time, and just did our jobs. He’s the real thing. But he still gives me the creeps.”

“Why?”

“I don’t honestly know,” she said. “Maybe it’s because he’s so… unknown.”

“He’s done eight necroscans,”[20] someone chimed in. “You need more evidence than that? That's insane. No one does eight necroscans.[21] He set a record at seven.”[22]

“He’s a loner,”[23] another Psi Cop added. “Strange duck.”

The others agreed. “All work,” someone else said. “No one has any idea what’s under that, if there is anything left… especially after those eight necroscans!”[24]

They shook their heads in disbelief, and a mixture of admiration and horror.

“Life in the Corps is very cooperative,” someone else told Dylan, as if he were a newcomer and had to be taught the obvious.[25] “But his attitude is always very… ‘we’re all a team and I’m in charge.’ Alpha male. Ambitious.[26] He gets the job done, but he’s not always… popular.”[27]

“I think he likes being creepy,” the first woman continued, “keeping everyone on their toes, making sure we don’t get too comfortable.”

Dylan nodded. “Yes. When I introduced myself, he tested me.”

“He does that to everyone,” one of the men replied. “Don’t take it personally. He trusts no one.”[28]

Dylan nodded, but he didn’t feel better. That test had meant something more – he just wasn’t sure what. And he'd failed it.

“I bet Mr. Bester sleeps with a gun under his pillow,” someone said. “He has to, if he’s lived this long in the field.”

“I bet he bathes with one!”[29]

Laughter.

[1] See above. See also Dark Genesis, p. 90 (Desa Alexander awarded the Gold Shield and the Crossed Arrow by the EA Senate for “outstanding service to the Earth Alliance and for Bravery, Integrity and Honor”).

[2] Deadly Relations, p. 176-180 (they court and marry), p. 184-186 (his wife has an affair), p. 189-190 (breaking up with his wife and getting reassigned to Mars, leaving her on Earth, also knowing the child might not be his)

[3] Deadly Relations, p. 196 (mentions having a grown-up son, although he’s also lying about his family)

[4] _A Race Through Dark Places_ (“Would it interest you to know that I’m married, Mr. Garibaldi? That I have a 5-year-old daughter? That on Sundays when I’m back home, we pack a picnic lunch, and go out under the dome on Syria Planum and watch the stars come out?”). See also _Ship of Tears_ (“I thought you had a wife and daughter back on Mars.” “I do.”)

[5] Final Reckoning, p. 58 (“The Corps had arranged a marriage, of course, a genetic match guaranteed to produce telepathic offspring [of equal strength]. There had never been love there, though for a time he had thought there might be at least companionship. Until he had come home to find Alisha in the arms of another man. He supposed he was married still, and his son - if indeed it was his son, which he very much doubted - was a stranger. No, probably during or after the telepath wars Alisha had sued for a divorce.”), p. 161 ("Could he have family here?" "Family? You know better than that. Bester wasn't just raised by the Corps, they gave _birth_ to him. There are absolutely no records linking him to any other human being.” “I noticed that. That’s weird, even for the old Psi Corps. Keeping track of genealogies, notably for breeding purposes, was everything, especially back then.”) If Alisha’s son was his genetically, the Corps would have kept that record, thus corroborating what we already know from Deadly Relations, that the child is not his.

[6] _The Corps is Mother the Corps is Father._ Just as Bester tells Ysidra Tapia that he is happily married to deflect her affections, he says something similar to Lauren, another of his interns. ("I was told you were married. Is she...?" "No. We have a residence in Syria Planum. She stays there most of the time. I see her when I can." "It must be nice. Someone who will wait for you. Someone who will love you." "And if my wife ever found out about her... Private joke. Look, it's getting late. You should go back to your room." "Yes. Or I could stay here." "Lauren, you're a very sweet young woman, but my heart is already taken. She's not... She's not here right now, but I hope she will be someday. Now, if that changes, you'll be the first to know. But for now, I think you should go back to your room. And don't worry about this tomorrow. You shouldn't be embarrassed about anything, because nothing did happen.")

Why he would lead her on with that "private joke" or with "now if that changes, you'll be the first to know" doesn't make much sense (he has no intention of getting involved romantically with his interns) - and this whole scene takes place in the immediate aftermath of the other intern's <i>murder</i>, which isn't sexytimes? (!!!!!). These are some of the many wrong notes in this episode (to be addressed later). _  
_

[7] Deadly Relations, p. 37 (Bester is told as a child that his parents had been killed when rogues bombed Teeptown), p. 56 (same), p. 124 (Even Elizabeth Montoya seems to feel Bester has materialized out of the spirit of the Corps, even if she's probably being sarcastic: "You were raised in the Corps, weren't you?" "Yes, my biological parents were Corps, but they died when I was very young." "You sure about that?" "What's that supposed to mean?" "I don't know. Have you ever seen any evidence that they really existed?" - Bester is pretty offended by this), p. 165-166 (confrontation with Black Fox, where Bester says that his parents were in the Corps, and they were killed by a bomb planted by the Dexters), _The Corps is Mother the Corps is Father_ , wherein the story is yet again a little different, and this time he spent time in a normal foster home: ("How did the Corps find you?" My parents were killed in an accident. I was barely a month old. When I was put into a foster home, I turned up in the random DNA checks. The Corps took me in, raised me and taught me that because we're special we need to watch out for each other even more than we would as mundanes. We're responsible for each other.")

[8] Final Reckoning, p. 161 (Canon doesn't specify that this mystery about Bester's origins was leaked until after the Crisis (Telepath War), but since rumors in the Corps, both true and untrue, are _so common_ , I decided it's plausible that such rumors circulated during the years of the Corps.)

[9] Canon first tells us of Bester’s lack of genealogical records in Final Reckoning, p. 161 (Bester refuses to check his ancestry much earlier in Deadly Relations, p. 170, worried that checking might itself hurt his career, and that people might have tampered with his genealogical records to hurt him). However, were knowledge of his lack of records ever to leak, this would be people’s logical inference to explain the anomaly.

[10] Final Reckoning, p. 161. He is, in fact, related to someone powerful enough to have his records erased, but for a different reason that no one would suspect. (And a secret affair was involved, but it was his mother who was born of that, not Bester himself.)

[11] Final Reckoning, p. 161. Garibaldi: “Family? You know better than that. Bester wasn’t just raised by the Corps, they gave _birth_ to him. There are absolutely no records linking him to any other human being.” If _Garbaldi_ is seeing it this way, then surely there are those in the Corps who do as well, and with a pinch more legend.

[12] Cameras hover. _And Now for a Word_ , _The Illusion of Truth_.

[13] Johnston has a personal hatred for Bester. Deadly Relations, p. 10-11 (even when Bester is a small child), 78-79, 110, 147, 254. And then there are all the times he tried to kill Bester (and failed).

[14] Examples of Psi Cops/P12s whose parents were normals: Dr. Sandoval Bey (Bester's mentor and father figure), Elizabeth Montoya (Bester's first girlfriend, who almost made it to graduation), all of Bester’s classmates in Psi Cop training on p. 126, Ysidra Tapia (one of Bester's trainees), Alisha Ross (Bester's wife who, though not a Psi Cop, is also a P12 who was born to normal parents. She entered the Corps at age eight).

[15] Deadly Relations, p. 40 ("Take note," [the martial arts instructor] said. "Mr. Bester used the minimum motion necessary. He fought the battle where it really takes place-in the mind. He won before he began his attack. Mr. Jackson is a bigger man, but his mind is weaker." He gazed around at the group - all second - year students in the Minor Academy. "Attention. Class dismissed." They all bowed in unison.)

[16] Deadly Relations, p. 40, 87, Final Reckoning, p. 81. ("Bester wiped a little sweat from his brow. When he had been in the Corps, he had followed a fairly strict exercise regime. Sure, a good Psi Cop wasn't often called on to possess physical dexterity, other than marksmanship, but he had learned early that when those times did come, it was usually a matter of life and death. So he had practiced various martial arts, run a few miles every day.")

[17] _Epiphanies_. Lyta: “I interned with the Psi Cops as a field assistant. They’re trained to make others nervous, but Bester makes even other Psi Cops nervous.” Garibaldi: “Hell, the guy can make poison ivy nervous.”

[18] Final Reckoning, p. 462. (Bester, to the court: "You want to know who the real telepathic Resistance was? It was us [the Corps]. Protecting ourselves against you. Sure, along the way we protected you, too, whether you knew it or not, and more than you will ever know.")

[19] A Psi Cop intern refers to Bester as a hero in _The Corps is Mother the Corps is Father._ ("You know, Chen thought you were a hero. Tell you the truth, I wasn't sure if I still believed in heroes. But I have never seen anyone fight for our people the way you do.")

[20] Deadly Relations, p. 187. ("He waited impatiently as the fellow was taken into surgery. He had chosen a mundane, in a mundane hospital, volunteering through the court system. That likely meant that MetaPol didn't yet know he was doing this. If they did, they might try to stop him, and he couldn't have that. Every moment he had to wait increased the chances someone in his division would realize what he was up to. No matter what, this was the last time. The Corps couldn't possibly risk one of their best - and yes, he was one of their best, there was no need for false humility - on an eighth deathbed scan. That was okay. One more was all he needed.")

[21] Deadly Relations, p. 174 (“Al, nobody does five necroscans.”)

[22] Deadly Relations, p. 182 (“Seven would make him a legend, after a fashion.”)

[23] Throughout, even when Bester is a small child. See Deadly Relations, p. 8. ("You're not a bad guy, Alfie, just a little weird," Brett confided. "I'm not weird." "You're always playing alone, always have, even when we were really little.") See also p. 87. (Bey: "The Corps deserves cadets who live to pay it back for their training, who don't end up dead or as mewling idiots in a hospital ward. That is where you are headed, Mr. Bester. You have no friends. You run, you practice martial arts, you drill unsupervised in your 'spare' time. All solitary activities. And this is how you've lived, as far as I can tell, for your entire short life." Bester: "I don't really get along with others very well, sir." Bey: "No, you don't. That's exactly the problem.")

[24] _Paragon of Animals_. Lyta: “You feel the other person slipping away. And for a second, it catches you. It pulls you in and a part of your soul goes with him. ... Call it whatever you want. But inside... in here... there’s a part of you that goes cold. Empty. And after that... you’re never quite whole again. I’ve only been through it twice. I’ve seen other telepaths who’ve been through it four or five times. And you look into their eyes... and there’s nothing there anymore. The rumor around Psi Corps is that’s what happened to Mr. Bester. Did you know that? ... They say he was always volunteering for deathbed scans. I guess he wanted to know what was on the other side. They say he was there, inside someone's mind, when they died, and he went too deep. Saw more than anyone should ever see. And when the door closed, the rest of him, maybe the best of him, never came back.” See also Deadly Relations, p. 277, during the eighth necroscan, “ _And there is nothing here. There is nothing left in my heart at all._ There wasn’t. There wasn’t. His skin was all that remained, inside out, empty.” See also Final Reckoning, p. 75, “Once, he had lost his soul - not figuratively, but literally. He had been much younger, and had volunteered to perform deathbed scans. These were often necessary in the case of a victim of a violent crime, who might know the face of his killer, or of a mortally wounded rogue who could reveal where his comrades were hiding out. It was hard and dangerous, following someone into death. Most telepaths could only stand to do it once. A few had done as many as four. He had done eight. Eight times, and each time a part of him had died with them. Finally, when he slipped beyond the final doorway they all passed through, he had looked into his own heart and had seen nothing there. Nothing. But then, decades later, there had been Carolyn, and now... So he lay there, listening as Louise came up the stairs, as the door to her room closed softly. Lay there wondering; if a man lived long enough, could he grow a new soul?”

[25] For example, see the cadre bonding in Deadly Relations, p. 4-6 (as children), p. 53 (as teenagers). For Academy team exercises that require cooperation, see Deadly Relations, p. 110-111, 126-127

[26] Deadly Relations, p. 23, when Bester has just turned seven (by telepath age reckoning): “I want to be a Psi Cop, sir.” “Why?” ... “It’s because to be a Psi Cop you have to be the best. The very best.” “And you want people to know you are the best.” “Yes, sir.” “You know that’s the wrong answer, don’t you, Alfred?” “Yessir.”) See also Deadly Relations, p. 42-43, when Bester is fifteen: “Van Ark chuckled. “How long have you been coming in here anyway, Mr. Bester? Four years now? You follow these Blips like some kids follow baseball or soccer.” “Yes, sir. When I become a Psi Cop, I want to know who they are.” “When? Not if? You’ve certainly got no problem with confidence, Mr. Bester. Anyway, it’s good to see a youngster taking such an active interest. You’re a good example. Still-” he widened his hands expressively “-you’re in here every day, rain or shine! Don’t you ever just take a day off? Fly a kite, take a girl on a picnic? When you get to be my age, you'll regret it.” Al reflected - very carefully, very controlled - that when he got as old as Van Ark, he intended to have a much higher rank than [Van Ark’s rank of only] lieutenant, whether the title was spoken or not.”) See also Deadly Relations, p. 108, 200

[27] For example, see Deadly Relations, p. 8, 46-48, 52-53 (not fitting in with his peers)

[28] Deadly Relations, p. 37, 89, 110, 186. See also Final Reckoning and the tragic story of Louise.

[29] Deadly Relations, p. 225

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gregory Keyes, Final Reckoning, p. 243:
> 
> Bester, at his trial in The Hague: "That was the choice I grew up with. Hunt down and sometimes kill my own kind, with the blessings of EarthGov and every normal citizen who voted for it, or be subjected to the same uncontrolled genocide that was visited on us in the beginning.
> 
> "You made that, each and every one of you. Oh, you might try to pawn it off on your ancestors, but you reified it each generation, gave it the nod. I spent the first seventy-two years of my life being told what a good little boy I was, how well I served humanity by hunting down my people. I have the commendations to prove it, a drawerful.
> 
> "Now, suddenly, you've decided that maybe Psi Corps wasn't such a good idea, and you want to sweep it all under the rug. You want to pretend it just went bad, somehow, and that it was my fault. You also know that isn't true."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dylan doesn't realize that what he's being asked to work on _does_ have to do with telepaths...

2237\. EarthDome, Geneva.

When Dylan wasn’t in meetings, or running errands for Rosaki – _pick up my dry cleaning, Dylan, would you? And bring me some coffee, too, would you?_[1] – Dylan spent his days and nights doing research and drafting papers – work similar to what Rosaki assigned her other aides, the normals – and enough to keep him permanently in a state of exhaustion and sleep deprivation. It helped with the expectation on him not to notice others’ thoughts unless explicitly asked.

Dylan’s research usually had little to do with telepaths directly – Rosaki sat on several committees, and Dylan spent most of his time researching topics in science and technology and briefing Rosaki on developments in those areas. Most of the political action of the day involved the raging debate over the use of the so-called “mindwipe” or “brainwipe” devices on normal prisoners, to replace the death penalty.[2] The public was sharply divided over the device’s ethics and effectiveness. What if the device didn’t work, and serial killers recovered their memories, or otherwise discovered who they used to be?[3] What if they returned to their lives of crime? Rosaki and the other members of the Committee on Metasensory Abilities sought to ease public concern by mandating that telepathic scans – before and after – be required before a prisoner could be released, to demonstrate that the mindwipe had been successful.[4]

It was interesting work, but not what he had hoped to do. The normal aides, it seemed, got the projects directly related to telepaths, such as the edits to the latest edition of the Psi Corps student handbook. Dylan knew that the handbook had been written by normals – most telepaths over thirteen knew that – but to see Rosaki intentionally giving the project to her normal aides made him uncomfortable. How was he supposed to help his people if all the relevant work went to others – to normals who had never spent a day in the Corps?

He obediently did his research on science and technology, but as the days passed, he became frustrated. This wasn’t why he had come to EarthDome.

“Ma’am,” Dylan began one day, figuring he would start relatively cautiously, with a different topic, one he hoped would be less controversial, “I’d like to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind… do you have a moment?”

“What is it, Mr. Valle?”

“Well, as you know, telepaths who choose to take sleepers rather than join the Corps still face considerable discrimination. They want to live and work as normals, they take sleepers injections weekly, but the law doesn’t protect them. [Their registration status is still public](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293074/chapters/22772363), easily available to potential landlords and employers in routine background checks.”

A scowl. “What are you proposing, Mr. Valle?”

“Well, is there anyone who is perhaps working on statutory reform-?”

“That would be political suicide, Dylan,” she said, cutting him off.

“Is there anyone here who has even considered it?”

“No.”

“None?”

“Dylan, this is a waste of your time. You know how bad it would get if any senator came out in favor of legislation that forced landlords to rent to teeps – let alone if I myself took that position.”

Dylan shifted uncomfortably. “Teeps” were what telepaths called each other in the Corps. He didn’t like Rosaki using the slang, as if she was pretending to be a member of the community she supposedly served.[5]

“Besides,” she continued, “I think it’s foolish. If landlords don’t want to rent to telepaths, then it’s better for telepaths not to live there, don’t you think?”

“Yes ma’am, but under [the threat of eviction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10207466/chapters/22653818), some telepaths are forced to join the Corps who would otherwise stay with their families, in their communities…” He knew of several people who had had to move long distances, away from their families, to attend the nearest Corps school or training center.[6]

“And there’s something wrong with joining the Corps, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, of course not Senator!”

“Play this one out, Dylan – you’re a bright young man.” She said it as a semi-insult. “If I hinted at a change in the law forcing landlords to rent to telepaths, even those on sleepers, or proposed a legislative change that allowed telepaths who aren’t in the Corps to hide their registration status, there would be a panic. My constituents would ask, what’s next? Will landlords some day have to rent to telepaths in the Corps, as well? What about their normal tenants, and their privacy rights? And where does it end? What about hotels? Will travelers no longer be able to feel secure that there are no telepaths nearby?”

“I was only talking about those of us on sleepers, ma’am…” Dylan offered, trying to back the conversation up, and get off the senator’s slippery slope.

“Hotels are especially important. After all, isn’t that what telepathy already is like, staying in a hotel and being able to hear the people in the next room?”[7]

Dylan blinked, trying to figure out if the senator actually believed that, or if she was goading him. He didn’t take the bait. “I’m only talking about telepaths who have no functional telepathy,” he said. “Not about us in the Corps. And not even about P1s and P2s.”

Rosaki ignored him. “I ask again, where does it end? Will we force [schools to accept telepaths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268429/chapters/22741013)? Force [employers to hire them](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293074/chapters/22772363)?[8] No offense to your naive good intentions, Mr. Valle, but you do not appreciate complexity of the situation. It’s political suicide, and bad policy for normals as well as for telepaths. Surely you are bright enough to understand why.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dylan lied.

“Can you imagine the ads next election? Can you imagine the scare tactics my opponents would use?”

“Yes ma’am…”

“My opponents would kill me. On top of that, some radical nutjob might literally try! Mr. Valle, you know history – you know how many politicians have been targeted over the telepath question.”

Dylan nodded, uncomfortable.

She pointed upward at the smirking portrait. “Senator Lee Crawford held this job – my job. Sat in this very office, this very chair. There were four assassination attempts on him before he was finally murdered.[9] And then there was Senator Lai – a rogue teep tried to off him, too, and he supported the rogues![10] And let’s not forget the assassination attempt on President Robinson herself.[11] Every telepath over the age of five knows about that.[12] Need I go on?”

Dylan shook his head. Robinson had also been one of the key architects of Psi Corps – she had been president when Crawford designed it.[13] But Dylan did have to admit that Rosaki was right about one thing – every telepath did know the story of [William Karges](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10382478), the president’s bodyguard (and secret telepath), and how he had been fatally shot pulling the president to safety when an assassin tried to kill her during a rally.[14] There was a statue dedicated to him in the quad of the Corps’ flagship school.[15] The story was taught to all little children in the Corps – to honor Karges’ sacrifice, Robinson had created the Corps to give telepaths a safe place to live and work.[16] He was, according to the Corps handbook, the model telepath: hard-working, disciplined, loyal, selfless, and willing to die for King and Country.

The story was only half-true – Karges had been a telepath and saved Robinson’s life, but he’d been shot while questioning the suspect several blocks away, and radioed for backup. No one at the rally itself had ever seen a shot fired. Nor had the Corps been invented by Robinson – Crawford’s MRA had existed for decades. Robinson had made it universal, and independently-chartered. Her so-called “equal opportunity” laws, Dylan knew, had achieved their true purpose, and evened the playing field for normals, without “unfair” telepath competition. Only with telepaths oppressed could normals have so-called "equal opportunity."

“So the answer has to be no,” the senator continued, “I will not support any such policy. Unless, of course, when the assassins come for me, you’re volunteering to jump in front of the bullet.” _Like any good telepath should do._

“…No ma’am.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Dylan left her office. Somehow a modest plea for basic civil rights had turned into an expectation that he commit suicide on Rosaki’s behalf, like William Karges - and even earlier, Desa Alexander, the MRA agent who had jumped in front of a bullet for Senator Lai.[17] Dylan wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. He was too tired to think clearly.

 _Like any good telepath should do?_ Had he heard that correctly?

Had Mr. Bester been trying to warn him about something?

[1] Dark Genesis, p. 117. (A telepath aide to Senator Crawford (Shell Alexander, Lyta's great-grandmother) is bringing the senator his dry cleaned suits, in his office... and this is literally her only on-screen appearance in canon.)

[2] _Passing Through Gethsemane_ , _Quality of Mercy_ , _Visitors from Down The Street_ (Crusade). Approximate date as to when the device was first approved (late 2230s) from post by JMS on Usenet - interview (apparently) not available online.

[3] _Passing through Gethsemane_

[4] _Babylon Squared_

[5] _Divided Loyalties_ (“Oh, teeps. It’s sort of an in-joke around the Corps. Teeps for telepaths, ‘teeks’ for telekinetics”). The slang is almost exclusively used by telepaths themselves, but yet, Senator Crawford uses the term (e.g. Dark Genesis, e.g. p. 79, 93-94, 116). Elsewhere, Tom Nguyen, Crawford's aide before Kevin Vacit, also uses the term.

[6] This is the most plausible explanation why Ivanova’s mother couldn’t simultaneously be in training with the Corps and with her family.

[7] Unfortunately, this notion is perpetuated by Talia in _Mind War_. (“It’s like staying in a hotel room where you can hear the people next door. You can try and shut it out, but it’s there. Just don’t listen unless you’re invited.”) It’s not difficult to go from Talia’s less-than-artful analogy for ambient surface thoughts to justification for discrimination.

[8] See _Eyes_ for telepaths not allowed to serve in EarthForce, until after the Crisis. See p. 135 explicit legal ban on telepaths being politicians, lawyers or stockbrokers. See also Dark Genesis, p. 32 (Crawford immediately getting telepaths banned from being lawyers, stockbrokers and Olympic fencers (and possibly from more careers) as ten thousand people are killed within two weeks because they are, or are suspected of being, telepaths). Canon as a whole only shows telepaths serving in a small number of narrowly circumscribed roles/professions.

[9] Dark Genesis, p. 81, also referred to on p. 118. One of these assassination attempts is shown on p. 35-41. Crawford is assassinated on p. 121-122.

[10] Dark Genesis, p. 96-98

[11] Dark Genesis, p. 119, Deadly Relations, p. 10-11, 199, Final Reckoning, p. 246-247, Tim Dehass. “The Psi Corps and You!” /Babylon 5 #11/

[12] Deadly Relations, p. 10-11 (when Bester is six by telepath age reckoning)

[13] Dark Genesis, p. 119-120

[14] Dark Genesis, p. 119, Deadly Relations, p. 162-163, 199, Final Reckoning, p. 246-247

[15] Deadly Relations, p. 10-11, 56, 77, 137, 185, Final Reckoning, p. 246-247

[16] “The Psi Corps and You!” /Babylon 5 #11/. (See Deadly Relations, p. 10-11. Bester, age almost six, says, “Nobody liked teeps - I mean telepaths - back then, and they weren’t supposed to have jobs or rights or anything. But because of what Mr. Karges did, President Robinson made Psi Corps, to reward us, so teeps would have a place they could be safe and productive.”)

[17] Dark Genesis, p. 96-98. Desa Alexander is Lyta's great-great-great grandmother.


End file.
